"You are wrong," I said, unable to comprehend the preposterous things Annia just told me.

My nails dug into my palms as I got up from where I was sitting down and I briefly struggled to keep my balance, wobbling slightly back and forth. Heat ruled the dust filled air, and it felt like maggots were crawling under the constraints of my mortal cage.

"You are all wrong!" I repeated, more so to myself than as to deny her assertions. "You want me to believe whatever nonsense and gibberish you guys have been trying to fill my head with?"

She looked my way, her golden gaze piercing at me. My lips trembled and tears weighted down on my eyelashes.

The garments they had me change into felt like they were tightening against my core, despite their seemingly thin constitution. I was under the impression that the washed-out white hem stuck into the ground pinning me in place, the mousy cape resting on my shoulders dragging me down with all its might.

"The moon never chooses wrong," she firmly declared.

The proximity between us shrunk as Annia attempted to reach her hand up to me. However, my feet moved almost unconsciously backward, and I shoved her hand away.

"Oh, trust me," I emphasized, and inched closer to the exit. "Your Miss Moon, or whatnot, has got it very wrong this time around."

"Child, everything that has been predicted by the prophecy up until this very point has come true. You are, without a doubt, the vessel," she assured me. "The vessel summoned by the blood of Nix may break the curse set upon our people. There is no other way around it."

Schopenhauer claimed that all truth must pass through three distinct stages. In a first instance, the truth will be ridiculed. Then it will find itself being violently opposed. Lastly it will, without fail, make itself accepted as being self-evident. I was not yet prepared to accept the things she told me; it was unreal, contrary to reason or common sense; utterly absurd and ridiculous. But at the same time, I didn't know if I was yet ready for violent oppositions.

Denial.

"I don't want to spend not even one single second in addition with you lunatics. You continuing to spout this nonsense would not make me believe in it any more that I already do right now. You are as ridiculous as a donkey selling popsicles to a snowman."

Noise struggled to penetrate the thin walls that surrounded us, it lingered around and barely made its way through the entrance.

Annia crossed her arms, the material of her garments wrinkling under the pressure.

"Don't you dare look at me like that!" I demanded as our eyes linked again. I would have lied if I said I didn't feel intimidated by her. I felt her gaze burning into my skin. "I doubt there is much difference in age between the two of us, so you can just stop trying and drop the mojo jojo act you have going on, and the 'child this', 'child that'."

It seemed to me like she frowned briefly, like a toddler who has just been told 'NO', but the fleeting expression disappeared just as quickly as it appeared on her face.

"You don't want me to call you 'child'," she begun, "and you are adamant on not telling me your name, so I may address you so. How would you want me to call you?"

I paused, admittedly so, I figured that there was less harm done in her really knowing my name. I asked myself, 'what could really go wrong at this point?'.

"Maia," I told her. "I go by the name Maia, Maia Lupulescu."

Her expression softened upon hearing my name, and for a fleeting moment, I thought that, if given different circumstances, she and I could have been kindred spirits or something of the sort. I wondered how it would have been if she were one of the girls living in my students' dorms. Or, what if our shopping carts collided at the supermarket, and for a brief moment we talked about how we liked our coffee.

"You may call me Annia," she said, as if she knew I wanted her to tell me.

Annia looked at me, and maybe she figured out that my mind was a hazy maze filled with puzzling questions. And maybe she knew I was scared.

"When the rule of Karmin over this land ended with his murder, Nix was taken to the Rozalius under allegation of treason against the crown never to return again, and the people of this nest, his people, were cursed." She paused, tightly crumbling the piece of rag that she held in her right hand.

"It is said until Nix's sins against the gods are paid off, the land this pack walks on will forever be forsaken. But, as legend has it, unless a vessel appears to-."

"Annia, my father is not a sinner," interrupted Rexsus, creeping through the entrance.

The man's clouded expression contorted into a scowl; his pale brows furrowed together indicating displeasure. I looked him up and down. Thick leather belts tied together strapped down in place the worn-out fur attire that served as a top, which was cut halfway down the length revealing a pair of robust arms. As I looked up at him, he quickly averted his gaze, away from me, his frown deepening.

"So, you simply decided to kidnap a person, because of some children's fairy-tale?!" I exclaimed, utterly bewildered. "You people are truly out of your minds!"

I pushed him aside, and made my way out in a hurried manner. Light blinded me for a few fleeting seconds as I stormed outside, and the first thing I saw were curious pairs of eyes staring back at me. Scrawny looking beings with jackal like ears fussed around me. I felt like a measly bug under the microscope, and the world around me spun in a hectic manner, noises buzzing in my ears.

"Leave me alone..." I mumbled, "Leave me alone, I said!"

I made my way through the small crowd, and the last thing I remember was the soles of my feet repeatedly parting with the dusty ground, only to sink back in rapidly.

Every single one of my thoughts felt like a battle, and each and every breath felt like war. And I wasn't winning anymore. It felt like I was falling down a hill, but I hadn't reached the end yet. I was still mid-air, floating. But I knew it was coming. I could feel it. The brutal pit awaiting me. I was going to fall apart, and shatter into a million pieces. And I didn't know if I was going to be able to fix myself back up.

I finally came back to my senses when he yanked me backwards and I found myself back in the middle of the forest. The lanky trees edging around us. His mismatched eyes looking my way, sweat dripping down his forehead. Wide gaze staring at me.

He seemed like a firework before it is ready to explode. You can hear it fizzling, and you may feel the small sparks coming your way, right before it combusts.

Rexsus opened his mouth, as if ready to say something, his coarse hand tightly wrapped around my wrist, trembling. His chest moved up and down rapidly as he exhaled.

"You are a monster!" I howled at him, and tried to shove him away.

He clenched his jaw at my remark, revealing a few tensed veins which pulsed rhythmically. Frowning he grasped my face in his hands and inspected it, locking eyes with me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I scorned at him and dug my teeth into his left hand. "Let. Go. Of. Me!" I mumbled.

The light rays that easily peaked through the branches stabbed against our skins and melted into our being. The weathered grass tickled against my bare skin, and the metallic taste of blood stung my taste buds.

He groaned letting go of me, as he stepped backwards, rubbing his hand.

His release, however, proved to leave no room for any content feeling. The air felt thicker as I breathed, it roughed against my throat and struggled to fill my lungs. My blood burned in my chest and I felt all my muscles tense up.

"Why do bad things keep happening to me?" I sobbed and struggled to keep my balance.

Tears spilled down both my cheeks and my hands trembled without any composure.

"It hurts," I wept, clenching my fist against my chest. "It hurts so much."

It felt like I was caught in a fire blizzard, the inferno reaching the chambers of my mortal being, and there was no way to extinguish the flames that ate at my soul.

"How do I make it go away?" I struggled to look at him through teary eyes.

My breath ran short and quick, and I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me close to him. He held me close to his chest and rested his chin against my head, stroking my back slowly.

"Make it stop," I muttered as I reached out and clung onto him. "Please, make it stop. Make it all stop..."

It is said that denial keeps us blind to the things that we don't want to accept. Ignoring the signs is what makes a person cross lines they are not supposed to. Is that what happened to us?